


Future Imperfect

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do if you lost your entire world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot stress this enough: Major, multiple character deaths.

Dr. Janet Fraiser 

I was waiting in the gate room when they came home. General Hammond had come to tell me personally; even with the knowing, it is still a shock. 

So here I stand beside him, both of us trying to brace ourselves. The wormhole opens and expels SG2 and 3, bearing three blanket-covered stretchers, the expressions on those battle-hardened faces would crack even the hardest of hearts. And at last, stepping through is Daniel. His spine rigid, his face chalk white, his eyes blankly drawn to those stretchers as they are carried out of a now totally silent gate room

“Dr. Jackson.” The general’s voice is quiet, gentle, as is the hand he lays on Daniel’s shoulder. “You need to go with Dr. Fraiser now, we’ll talk later.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so very sorry, son.”

Daniel allows me to take his arm, lead him like a child to the infirmary and submits to the usual tests. My questions are answered with the least amount of words necessary. I want desperately to keep him here, to give him the biggest tranquilizer I can find; I know he is still in shock, but he pushes aside my concern. As he leaves, he speaks voluntarily for the first time. “Will you let me know when I can see them?”

“Of course, Daniel. I..” Words fail me. He gives me a sad little smile before he walks away. 

Alone.

General George Hammond

Dr. Jackson is matter-of-fact, completely emotionless. I have two airmen here to record this; I don’t want to make him do this twice. I listen quietly as he briefs me. On how they walked into the middle of a civil war between two societies. How they tried to make peace. How they died.

Major Carter fell first, dead before she struck the ground. Teal’c died minutes later as they attempted to make it to the gate. Then Colonel O’Neill, trying to save what was left of his team. And then only Dr. Jackson was left.

In shock from watching his team killed, he somehow made it to the gate, dialed in and requested help in an utterly calm voice. Then he tried to go back for his friends, couldn’t because of the fighting. Was forced to wait for SG-2 and SG-3 to gate in. Waited for the fighting to end. Walked back with them to retrieve the bodies. And then followed them back through the gate. Everyone in the control room simply held their breath until they heard Ferretti dial back in and report that he was bringing back one surviving member of SG1.

“Dr. Jackson, you did the only thing you could have done.” It doesn’t surprise me to know Jack’s last actions were to try to get Dr. Jackson to safety. Knowing Major Carter and Teal’c were already lost, he would have fought like hell to save Dr. Jackson. “When you can, I’ll need a written, detailed report.” He rose. “When you can.”

“By morning, sir.”

“Take your time, Dr. Jackson, I’ll have a driver take you home when you’re ready.”

“I won’t be going home, sir. Not until....until it’s all over.”

I don’t even try to argue with him. “I’ll have a VIP room set up for you. Try to get some rest, son.” And I’ll make sure you get some sleep even if I have to order Dr. Fraiser to knock you out.

 

Major Paul Davis

It is still dark when I arrive at the White House; all I knew was that something had happened, something terrible. When the President tells me, I simply can’t take it in. The thing we had all known was going to happen, have feared would happen, has actually happened.

The President’s grief is tempered by the fact that Dr. Jackson had somehow survived unscathed; both he and the First Lady are among the many who have a soft spot for him. So I am not surprised when the President orders me to head the Pentagon team assigned to investigate. 

And he reminds me although my main goal is to report the truth, I should not forget Dr. Jackson’s value and his contributions to the SGC. I get that message loud and clear and can truthfully assure him that I will be fair to both Dr. Jackson and the investigation. I am on my way to Colorado within the hour.

General Hammond looks dreadful. This last day has worn on him terribly. When I ask how Dr. Jackson is, he snaps at me, then immediately apologizes.

When Dr. Jackson enters, I am reminded inexplicably of those wonderful pieces of antique, hand-blown crystal you see in museums. A beautifully formed shell, totally empty and so frighteningly fragile, you’re afraid to breathe. You just know if you touch it the wrong way, exert too much pressure, it will shatter into millions of sharp-edged fragments that can never be reassembled. And when he begins to speak, he is as unreachable as if he were enclosed in one of those sealed display cases.

I have always had the utmost respect for SG1 and what they stood for. I just hope that Dr. Jackson knows that I will be fair, that I will do right by their memory.

 

General George Hammond

The past three days have been hellish. I sent a team to Mark Carter, one to Jacob, another to Chu’lak; I personally went to Sara O’Neill.

The base is quiet, much quieter than normal. Everyone seems frozen, unsure of what to do. I have seen more than one set of bloodshot, swollen eyes slide away from Dr. Jackson. No one knows what to say to him, how to comfort him, how to reach him.

I am glad to see the President had followed my suggestion that Major Paul Davis lead the Pentagon team. He is a good and fair man and I know he will handle Dr. Jackson delicately.

Dr. Jackson made good on his threat; he hasn’t stepped outside since he stepped back through the gate. Tomorrow, he will accompany a squad to Major Carter’s house and then to Colonel O’Neill’s. And go through them for anything of a sensitive nature. The houses have already been secured. 

Most of Major Carter’s personal effects will be donated to charity; her brother believed that would have been what she wanted. What little jewelry she had will be kept for his daughter. One of the airmen brought me two small boxes with a note from Mark Carter, asking that they be given to Cassandra and Janet Fraiser.

Today, there is the funeral. Jacob and Mark Carter, Sara O’Neill and Rya’c agreed to have one service for all three. Very unusual, but I can see the sense in it. They, Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter and Teal’c, were family for all intents and purposes. And absolutely no one wants to put Dr. Jackson through the agony of three separate services.

There are many beautiful churches in Colorado Springs. Sara O’Neill wanted to use the one where their Charlie had been mourned so many years before. 

So here I stand waiting for Dr. Fraiser, she took Dr. Jackson to his house to change. She has confessed to being worried because he has held up so well. He spent time in the morgue with each body before they were taken away. Teal’c’s body was cremated, his ashes sit now in an urn between two flag-draped coffins.

The church is bursting at the seams. I don’t know when I have ever seen so many dress blues in one place before. Those who couldn’t find seats line the walls in a silent honor guard.

Dr. Jackson sits motionless as those flags are carefully, reverently folded and brought forward. One to Mark, one to Sara and one to Rya’c. It is clear he didn’t expect this and he eyes Dr. Jackson, who nods back at him.

Dr. Janet Fraiser  
Daniel is doing well, much too well. He is pale and I know he isn’t eating or sleeping. What he also isn’t doing is grieving. He has been the rock that everyone else has leaned on.

I sit with General Hammond, who finally gives in to his tears. When I asked Cassie, she cried because she wanted to come, for Daniel’s sake. I hugged her and assured her that Daniel will understand. I picture a confused and terrified eight-year-old forced to stand at his parent’s coffins. No, I would never make Cassie do this.

When it is his turn to speak, he does so beautifully, eloquently. His voice never cracks, never wavers, his words clear and true. Under different circumstances, it would be a pleasure to hear his wonderful voice demonstrate the acoustics of the church. 

Although I know Jack would be so very proud of him on one level, on another he would be royally pissed. I read the mission report; I know what Jack’s last words were. “Get the hell out of here, Daniel.” He died not knowing if Daniel lived.

After the service, the church is just down to family, me, the general, Sam’s family, Rya’c, Bra’tac, Sara O’Neill, who is clutching Daniel.

“He loved you, Sara.” Daniel is murmuring softly.

She pulls herself back to take his face in her shaking hands. “He loved you, too, Daniel. Never, never... Promise me you won’t ever forget that.”

The hearses pull away. Sam is first; Mark is having her flown to California, to be near him. Teal’c is headed back to base, where they will take his ashes to Chu’lak. Our cars follow Sara; she’s taking Jack to be with Charlie.

*

Daniel insisted I didn’t have to do this, but I know I do. I fully intend to walk every one of these steps with him. No matter how hard it is, no matter how much I want to cry and probably will cry. He needs to know that he doesn’t have to do this alone.

He does well at Sam’s. We go through what little stuff she had at home, she did most of her work on base. It’s easy here. 

Now on to Jack’s. This place is my last hope for Daniel; he spent nearly as much time here as he did at his own home. As far as I know, he hasn’t shed the first tear. Not when it happened, in the morgue with their bodies, at the funeral, the graveside.

And he does fine, at first. Then he finds two items that had been left on Jack’s bed. The first is a folded flag in a simple case, with a card. He picks the card up, rapidly blinking as he reads it. When he finally speaks, his voice is low. “It’s my flag. From when they thought I was dead. He kept it this whole time.” 

Beside the case is the black leather jacket I’ve seen Jack wear dozens of times. Daniel touches it reverently. “He loved this damned coat so much. Always said it brought out the gray in his hair.” He slowly, reluctantly picks it up, holds it, automatically slips it on. He might have been only a couple of inches shorter than Jack, but the coat simply engulfs him. I laugh before I can stop myself and he stares at me in shock. 

Then he crosses to the mirror and a smile slowly creeps across his face. Pulling the collar up to his face, he sniffs, smiles again. His hands naturally sink into the pockets, and he fumbles with a piece of paper he finds there. Drawing it out, he reads it. Those blue eyes suddenly go crazy, his body lurches like he’s been hit. Then he jerks the coat off and throws it down. 

I grab him before he hits the door; I’m very much afraid that if he gets out the door, I will lose him. Literally and figuratively. “Daniel, don’t.” He fights to get away, but I’m tough; I simply hang on. I stay with him, and we hit the floor still wrestling. 

He is wild with grief, fighting himself now much more than me. I can tell by the difference in his breathing; he’s not just winded now, his breath is hitching. “Don’t fight it.” I whisper as I stroke his face, hold him like I have held Cassie so many times. “Let it go. You don’t have to be strong anymore.”

“Jack!” He screams at the top of his voice.

“It’s okay, Daniel.” I hold him, rock him, slip his glasses off, whisper nonsense to him as he sobs. We sit there, tangled up together while he cries until he simply can’t cry anymore. 

I know he will hate both of us for this, but I whisper to one of the airmen to fetch my bag from the car. I grab the pre-loaded syringe with one hand; the other is clutching Daniel for dear life. His sobs have simply worn out; he’s too exhausted to do anything but lie there. 

“You need to rest, Daniel.” He stirs in protest and I hold his head firmly turned away as I stick him without regret. His body sluggishly tenses for another fight when it finally realizes what’s happening, but I know he will lose this battle. 

Within seconds, he is limp in my arms. I hold him for just a few more minutes, then motion for the airmen. We put him in Jack’s bed and pull the covers over him. I send them away and lock the doors behind them.

I call the general and let him know what happened. He’s relieved that Daniel has finally cried and we both know he will be better for it. I make a cup of coffee, using Daniel’s favorite grind and wander back upstairs; I don’t believe he’s moved an inch since we tucked him in. 

I pick up his glasses from the floor and the leather coat that started it all. Taking out the paper, I walk into the bathroom to read it by the light in there. I smile as I read the words, scribbled in Jack's hand, underlined several times. “Kill Daniel ASAP!!!” 

 

General George Hammond

I know that the funeral and the details at Carter and O’Neill’s house were hard. But today is no better; it is the memorial service here on base. We have had to limit the number of folks who can attend, because simply everyone attached to this command wants to be there. And even some not connected. Senator Kinsey had the gall to inform me he would be attending. I took great pleasure in informing him that I would have him shot on sight.

Dr. Fraiser and I have made a list, a very short list and passed it around. Everyone else is welcome to listen on the PA, but she thinks it best if there are as few people in the room as possible. I honestly don’t think we would have made it through this without her strength.

So here we are, Dr. Fraiser is standing so close to Dr. Jackson, I know she can hear every breath he takes. Louis Ferretti flanks him on the other side; those two are now the only surviving members of the original team. Paul Davis, on Ferretti’s other side, looks decidedly shell-shocked.

I walk to the podium and look at the odd group assembled here in the gate room Representatives from the Jaffa, Asgard, Tok’ra, Nox, this list of alien races who wished to show their respect seemed endless. I talk about SG1, their courage, their sacrifice, the lives they saved along the way. I nod to Dr. Jackson and he makes his way to the podium. 

“I had known Jack O’Neill less than twenty-four hours the first time he threatened to kill me.” Murmurs of laughter filter through the room, exactly what he intended. He looks at Dr. Fraiser and they share a secret smile. Then he pays tribute to his team, his friends. 

His speech elicits both tears and laughter before he walks slowly up the ramp and sends the wreath through. He pauses there, lays his palm flat on the event horizon, saying his own silent good-bye I suppose. Then he resolutely walks back, to stand beside Dr. Fraiser, who immediately takes his hand in hers.

I nod at Walter, who points a remote at the television.

“Ladies and Gentleman, the President of the United States.” As the words fill the room, all those soldiers come to attention. Even Dr. Fraiser, who is more doctor than officer, drops Dr. Jackson’s hand and salutes.

“As you were, please. I only wish that I could be there today. Circumstances prevent that, but I do wish to add my condolences for the loss of Colonel Jack O’Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Teal’c. What they have done for their country, for this planet, cannot be spoken in mere words, cannot even be imagined. I, along with a grateful nation, grieve their loss.”

“There is no tribute that can honor their sacrifice, but I hope this will serve as some small reminder that they will be missed, that they were loved and honored and respected. By order of Presidential Proclamation, the designation SG1 will hereby be retired from active service.” 

Dr. Jackson and I knew this was coming. The President had called and offered his personal condolences to Dr. Jackson, told us what he was planning. He asked me what Dr. Jackson is going to do, I had to confess I don’t have a clue. “Keep him if you can, George.” The President said softly. “We need him now more than ever.”

Sara O’Neill

I suppress a sudden urge to hug a rigidly stiff Daniel in the lawyer’s office, I know he has no idea why he is here. “Jack didn’t mention you were in his will?” I whisper as he sits, still shocked. He thinks Jack left everything to me. But Jack and I talked about this a couple of years ago and I am okay with it. At least I am now.

I have to admit I wasn’t at first. I was jealous of Daniel, resented the hell out of him and even hated him for a time. I called up my old grief counselor, whom I hadn’t seen in years and asked for a session. Maria raked me over the coals but good. How dare I begrudge Jack being happy, having another family? I had no answer, because she was right. 

I hated Jack for going on with his life, for giving Daniel the part of his heart that he should have kept for Charlie. I hated Daniel for so easily cracking that shell that Jack had built around himself. I hated the Air Force for stealing Jack away from me. And I hated myself for being so small and petty as to want the man whom I swore I would love until the end of time to be miserable.

So when I look at Daniel now, I can do so without hate or jealousy. He demanded, and got, the best part of Jack because he simply wouldn’t settle for less. Jack once told me that Daniel, like Charlie, made him a better man. 

I remember the frustration on Jack’s face when he compared Daniel to Chinese water torture. “He keeps at you and at you until you just break down and do whatever the hell he wants.” The simple truth is that Daniel held on when I let go.

The lawyer keeps it short and sweet, which is how Jack would have wanted it. Jack’s Air Force pension and a few personal items he left to me. I had gone to Jack’s house and picked up Charlie’s things he kept. 

I hope Daniel didn’t mind what I had left for him, I think Jack would have wanted that flag to go to Daniel. The leather coat I had left just where I found it, thinking maybe Daniel would like to have it, maybe even wear it sometimes.

Everything else he had, he left to Daniel. His house, his big new truck, his fishing cabin, the lot of it. I thought it only right. Those were from Jack’s new life, the life he had made with this family.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a fishing cabin?” Daniel finally finds his voice.

“You don’t fish?”

“No, and Jack knew that! And do you know what kind of mileage that truck gets? I told him he was polluting the environment when he bought the damn thing.” 

“Well, Daniel, looks like Jack got the last laugh after all.” I do hug him before he leaves, still muttering under his breath. And I imagine somewhere, Jack is laughing his ass off, because he knows Daniel won’t get rid of the truck or the cabin or the house.

 

Dr. Janet Fraiser

“I’m glad you think it’s so funny! Can you picture me at a fishing cabin? It doesn’t even have an Internet connection!”

I laughed until I cried over Jack’s will. Daniel has stomped around my office for the last fifteen minutes. Not an easy feat, since it’s only a few paces long. “You could always get a satellite,” I whoop through the tears. He shoots me a chilling stare and keeps pacing. “Oh, come on, Daniel, you know you had a good time when you were there.”

“You mean Jack had a good time. Mosquitoes the size of a mother ship and I got pushed into water that even in July was ice cold. And I never even saw a damn fish the whole time we were there! Unless you count the one we got at that restaurant..”

I am so glad that he can talk about them now. I bullied him into grief counseling by telling him I’d never sign off on him to work ever again if he didn’t do it. He gave in, eventually, after numerous fights, after countless attempts to convince me he was fine. 

But he hasn’t been through the gate since it happened and he shakily confessed to me after one particularly rough session that he doesn’t know if he ever can. I told him to give it time, there is enough work stacked up in that mess he calls an office to keep him busy until the gate is rusted over.

“You’ll have to make a trip up there.”

“Yeah, I know, I have to go close it up for the winter.”

“I’m sure it’s beautiful up there this time of year.” I try to coax a smile out of him, but when it comes, it’s purely evil.

“I’m glad you think so, because you and Cassie are coming with me.”

“Me? And Cassie?”

He pauses on his way out. “I’ve already told Cassie, she’s really looking forward to it. You just have to get the general to give you some time off. Five days ought to do it.” I throw a book at him as he closes the door.

“Bastard!” I hiss under my breath, knowing I’m beat. I am a pushover for both of them and he knows that. I mentally check out my wardrobe, wonder what one wears in Minnesota this time of year. 

*

We fly to Minnesota and pick up the Jeep Daniel has rented. Four wheel drive, he knows what it’s like up here. I swear I saw a snowflake and it’s still September and we’re still a two-hour drive from the cabin and I’m wondering if I packed enough warm clothes. 

Daniel knows the road well and he helps Cassie study for an upcoming history test as he drives. I look out the window and wonder if I should have brought a gun. There may be wild animals in the woods.

We stop in at a general store for supplies. The proprietor remembers Daniel and greets him warmly. “Hey, Daniel, coming up to close the cabin?”

“Yeah. How’s life, Timothy?”

“Good, had a great season. Say, where’s Jack?”

Daniel knew the question was coming and I can see that it still jolts him. “Jack…Jack is dead.”

“In the line?” The retired soldier asks, Daniel nods. “Shit! Sorry, Daniel. It’s a damn shame, that’s all.”

“Yes, yes, it is, Timothy. Thanks.”

 

Daniel is far too quiet the rest of the way to the cabin. When he pulls up and we get out, I just stare. “Daniel, it’s beautiful.” The leaves are in the midst of change and are a glorious tangle of colors. The cabin is a dark wood with a tiny dock on a still, clear lake.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” He turns back. “Okay, let’s unload, get a fire going.” We all troop in and he expertly starts a fire, before he fires up the generator. All those years with Jack have rubbed off; he can certainly fend for himself. 

The cabin has two bedrooms and I act like I’m offended when Daniel takes the smaller one for himself. I know this is the one he slept in while he was here. The other will probably always be Jack’s as far as he’s concerned. Cassie and I investigate the room; it shares a fireplace with the living room so it is already inching towards warm.

Cassandra Fraiser

I don’t know what to say to Daniel these days. I have cried and cried over Sam and Jack and Teal’c. I just wonder if he does, too. Probably not, because men think they have to be all tough and say they’re fine and it’s okay even when they’re not. He quizzed me on my history test on the drive up to the cabin, like I even care if I pass history. What difference does that make now?

I don’t think there is another living soul within a hundred miles, unless it’s wild animals. Wonder if there are bears in Minnesota? 

I can’t believe there is no television or telephone or Internet! Talk about a bummer, how could anyone live like this? When I asked Daniel that, he replied, but I think he was kidding, that no one actually lived up here, they just kind of passed through looking for fish. 

By the time we get the truck unloaded and our stuff sorted, the sun is setting. Mom sends me out to find Daniel, who’s on the dock watching the sunset. “Hey,” he turns toward me.

I want to talk to him but I don’t want to hurt him. Mom said he was there when they all died and he saw it happen and he doesn’t talk about it because it hurts too much. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral,” I finally blurt out.

“It’s okay.”

“No! No, it’s not! I couldn’t make myself go, even though I should have.”

He frowns. “Who said you should have?”

“Nobody said so, but I know you shouldn’t have been alone and I should have gone and said good-bye to them and...” I run out of breath, trying to keep from crying. He pulls me down onto his lap. “Let me up, I’m too big for you to hold!”

“Too bad, because I’m bigger than you are and I still need to be held.”

I act like I don’t want him to, but I let him settle me across his lap and slide my arms around his neck. He smells good and feels different than Mom, warm and strong and real. His arms hold me firmly and I snuggle my head into him and breathe. “Are you sure I’m not too heavy, Daniel?” I hope not, ‘cause I like being here, feeling safe.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m tough. Jack made me go to the gym so I could beat up Teal’c.” I giggle because I know no one could ever beat up Teal’c and so I tell him. “Hey, I got some major muscle here.” He makes me feel his arm.

“Wow! You actually have a muscle.”

He smiles at the tone of my voice. “More than one, I’ll have you know, little girl.” 

We sit in silence for a long time, then I lay my head back down, and whisper, “I miss Sam.”

“So do I, baby, so do I.” His hand gently strokes my hair. I lean in even closer and he holds me tighter.

After a while, Mom comes out and we sit quietly and watch the sun set.

 

Dr. Daniel Jackson

They say the first year is the hardest. I personally think they don’t know what the hell they are talking about. You are numb most of the first year; it’s after the numb wears off that it gets hard.

I know I would have given up if not for Janet. But she wouldn’t let go, held on to me with the tenacity usually only seen in terriers and other small animals.

I finally went back through the gate. I had convinced myself that I would be content with looking at pictures and video of other civilizations but that only lasted so long. When a team brought something back that even I couldn’t identify, I finally got up the courage to ask the general to let me gate out. I know he was worried about the way I was holed up in my office.

It was hard as hell to go that first time and General Hammond sent SG2 with me. I guess he thought if I freaked completely out Ferretti might be able to handle me. But I gated out and did my job with a level of enthusiasm that had been missing for awhile. I pretended not to notice Lou following my every move with his eyes.

Two days after we got back, Lou and I went out and got drunk and he made me call Janet to drive us home since we hadn’t planned on both of us getting plastered. He didn’t dare call his wife because he said she would kill him for getting me drunk, although he wasn’t a hundred percent certain that Janet wouldn’t do the same. 

She came and got us and lectured us the whole time. And then lectured me after we dropped Ferretti. I buzzed the window down in her car. Partly to listen to a far away storm and partly to drown out her voice.

She stopped talking when I told her to take me to Jack’s house. Even though I am living here now and have finally given up my apartment, I don’t think it will ever be mine. She was quiet as she hauled me up the steps and inside, offering to stay with me. When I tell her to go home to Cassie, she informs me that Cassie is out of town for the weekend. 

I don’t think she has been here since I moved in, really moved in. She automatically moves to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and looks around. It is exactly the same as Jack left it. Right down to the picture of some big, stupid fish he stuck on the refrigerator last summer.

She turns to me. “Daniel.”

“I know, I know, but I just can’t bring myself to change anything. It just seems... Jack would...” I can’t explain it. We both jump as the storm that was so far away earlier seems to have arrived with a vengeance.

“I think Jack would be very mad to have you keep this house like a shrine to him.” She surprises me by stretching up to kiss my cheek and moving toward Jack’s old coffee maker. When it’s done, she won’t let me drink any of it. I get a bottle of water, several aspirin and a swat on the butt, then sent upstairs for a cold shower, which only serves to sober me up, more’s the pity. 

There was a very specific reason Ferretti and I got drunk today, of all days. 

I dress and wander back downstairs. She is in the living room so I detour through the kitchen. “Mister, if you come out of there with a cup of coffee, you’re gonna wish you were never born.” Her voice startles me and I drop the cup I was about to fill. Fortunately, it’s one of those really hard to break ones; it just rolls around on the floor. With a sigh, I grab another bottle of water and slink into the living room, wincing as the lightning illuminates the room.

“Janet.” 

“Daniel.” She just gives me that stare, the one that she is so good at and pats the couch beside her. I sit obediently because it is easier than fighting her, and in these past few months, I have won exactly no fights with her. “I know what you were doing tonight.”

“I was out drinking with one of the guys. In case you hadn’t noticed, I am of age.” I try to soften her up by nestling my head onto her shoulder. She doesn’t buy it.

“Stop it, Daniel. Do you think I don’t know what today is?” I try to get up, get away, but she snags me around the neck. “It’s okay, Daniel, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Really don’t want to,” I mutter against her sleeve, my face turned away from her. I must admit it feels really, really good just to relax, to listen to the thunder that seems to shake the whole house. “Jack would be so pissed at me.”

I feel her cheek on my hair. “He’d be flattered that you remembered his birthday. He would be pissed that you tried to drink yourself stupid because of it. Well, more stupid than you already are.”

“Hey! Be careful there.”

“Yeah, and I’m so scared of you, Daniel. Cassie could whip you in your current state.” She continues to stroke my hair, like I know she would with Cassie.

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Janet.” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Guess that shower didn’t completely sober me up. 

“What you’re supposed to do is what Jack would have wanted you to do, what Sam and Teal’c would have wanted. They wanted you to go on, to live. You didn’t die with them and you can’t stop living for them, Daniel. All you can do is go on.” She gives me a gentle shove. “Go up to bed, Daniel. And tomorrow you and I will go visit Jack. And you can have a nice talk with him. Okay?”

“Okay,” I lean back to kiss her cheek before I drag myself off the couch and stumble up the stairs to Ja…to my room. As I lay there in the dark, I think about tomorrow. After we visit Jack, I’m gonna drag Janet shopping. If I’m gonna live here, I’m gonna need a real coffeemaker.

I fall asleep to the now gentle roll of thunder as the storm passes.


End file.
